Tearstains and Champagne - Johnlock
by intergalacticpotatocat
Summary: Prequel to Coffee and a Kiss. John and Sherlock argue. (very little champagne I just couldn't think of a title).


Sherlock slammed the door behind him, dropping his bag on the floor and picking up his violin from its place on a chair, violently dragging the bow across the strings to create a sound not unalike the screams of the dying. John pushed open the door that Sherlock had just slammed in his face only to be assaulted anew by the screeching tones of his roommate's instrument.

"SHERLOCK HOMES PUT THAT DAMN VIOLIN DOWN AND LISTEN TO ME!"

The sound stopped so suddenly that John jumped and the following science almost seemed more deafening than the cacophony it replaced. Seeing Sherlock with a blank, emotionless face was something that John was used to, but Sherlock's countenance as he glared down on his shorter friend scared John like nothing ever had. After a moment of staring into those cold blue eyes, John found the courage to speak.

"Sherlock," he began, his voice sounding like a foghorn in the deathly quiet, "what just happened..."

"What just happened, is you denied our relationship, our love and a major part of our lives to all of our friends -hell- to the entire country." John stared, open mouthed at the love of his life.

"In fact, how do I know you ever loved me at all, maybe you just do this as an experiment. What happens when you make a sociopath feel love?" He let out a crazed sounding chuckle. "Well here's what happens." Sherlock threw his violin the short distance into John's chair and took off down the hallway, kicking a discarded newspaper out of his way as he went. The paper skidded along the hardwood floor and landed in front of John. There, printed on the front page was the headline that had caused all of this trouble.

"Chief Inspector at Scotland Yard and MI6 Politician Throw Lavish Engagement Party at Buckingham Palace."

Sherlock and John had been at Lestrade and Mycroft's engagement party when they had been approached by a reporter.

 _John had his head leaned against Sherlock's shoulder when the woman approached. She walked surprisingly steadily on her tall heels, clutching a microphone in her hand and was trailed by a burly looking man carrying a heavy camera._

 _"Excuse me Dr Watson, Mr Holmes, my name is Rosa Gordon, from Sky News. Many people have asked this and few have ever received an answer: Are the two of you in a relationship?"_

 _John nearly spat out his champagne and turned bright red, trying to regain his composure as quickly as possible._

 _"NO! No, no, no. Sherlock and I aren't...no"_

 _The reporter looked at him incredulously and Sherlock turned to face him._

 _"Wow John I didn't know I was that unlovable!" Aware of the camera, Sherlock made a joke of what he said, but John could see the pain in his eyes._

Suddenly returning to reality, John called out to Sherlock and made his way down the hallway, silently approaching Sherlock's doorway. The door was ajar and a small push was enough to open it so that John could see his friend. Sherlock was sat on his bed, illuminated by the rays of light cracking through the blinds in which tiny bits of dust seemed to dance. Without knocking, John slipped into the room and sat on the bed across from Sherlock, staring into his icy eyes.

Minutes rolled by as he gazed upon his partner and John's mind began to wander. He couldn't believe that Sherlock thought he didn't love him. If anything, John thought that Sherlock pretended to love him simply to see what love was like. After all, why would someone as wonderful as Sherlock love someone as boring as him?

"Sherlock..." It seemed as if that one word unleashed a tidal wave of emotion. Sherlock's face contorted into a graphic display of anger, sadness and hurt.

"WHY WONT YOU JUST ADMIT THAT WE'RE TOGETHER... ARE YOU ASHAMED OF ME?!"

At this, John's face fell in dismay.

"No..." The pain in John's voice was evident and a single tear slid down his cheek, along the bridge of his nose, and dripped off his face onto the bed that they were sat on. "You're the famous Sherlock Holmes.." He paused before continuing so quietly Sherlock could hardly hear him, "why would you want to be with me?"

John stared at his tears as they slowly soaked into the sheet beneath him. He was about to get up and leave when Sherlock tackled him to the bed and showed no intention of letting him go.

"I love you. For as long as you want this to stay between us, it will." With that whispered promise from the love of his life, John felt himself fall into a warm and comfortable sleep.


End file.
